Crisis of Faith
by Thalius
Summary: Ikora has a tenuous reunion with the Vanguards after the fall of the City, and finds herself feeling more alone now than she had on Io.


**AN:** This is both meant as an introspection piece to expand on that sweet sweet character development we got for Ikora, and as a haphazard attempt to put into context Cayde's constant tomfoolery during apocalyptic scenarios.

Also, mild backstory for how Colonel came to play her heroic part in the battle for the Last City. No endgame D2 spoilers but some mild story spoilers post-Io.

* * *

She felt something close to shame as her ship touched down near the Farm. She wanted to pause and examine it, to understand why a reunion with the Vanguard would garner such a reaction, but too soon the ramp is opening and scouts are hailing for her to accept landing tethers.

 _No one knew what to do,_ her ghost whispered gently to her. It still sounded too far away, a distant echo in her mind where once it had filled her with focus and strength. _We are not cowards for trying to look for answers._

 _Zavala had a plan,_ she thought back as she locked the ship's controls and descended the walkway. The smell of grass was the first thing to greet her, followed closely by the gleam of the evening sun on the steel of the ramp.

 _But he cannot hope to achieve it without us,_ her ghost responded. _And he fled, too. Extend some kindness to yourself, however difficult you may find the task,_ it added, a small quirk of humour in its internal voice.

The search for a response to her ghost was interrupted as the Farm came fully into view. Buildings older than even her stood haphazardly up from the thick grass, supported by much newer looking tech and scavenged steel. Comm beacons and repair stations broke up the ancient facade of Golden Age buildings; it was a mishmash of a control centre, and it did nothing to diminish her doubts at how last-ditch their efforts truly seemed.

And then she saw Zavala, standing proud and unbroken on the balcony of the barnhouse. He met her eyes with a careful smile, but she knew her old friend far too well to accept the expression at face value. There was a ragged edge to it that made him look small, and it terrified her.

 _Be kinder to yourself,_ her ghost repeated. _The others are as afraid as you are._

There was a flash of turquoise and the flutter of a cape dropping from the barn as she saw Cayde peel himself away from the wall and drop to the ground. She hadn't seen im at first, and even that alarmed her; she could not sense their Light even as she stood not ten meters away from them, and its absence brought on another pang of loneliness.

 _I suppose we are all just frightened, confused children now_ , she thought to her ghost, both an acquiescence to its advice and a tentative acceptance of their collective fates. She was not alone in her solitude, at least.

"Rey," Cayde called, jaunting his way through the grass towards her. The spring in his step reassured her, and she even felt her mouth tug into a smile as he came to a stop in front of her.

"So," he said. "Figure everything out yet?"

"Not quite," she replied, and almost rolled her eyes at his mock shocked expression.

"Well we might _actually_ be screwed then." He slung an arm around her shoulders to let her know he wasn't serious, and directed her attention to the FOB in the barnhouse. "Lucky for us, Zavala has a plan."

"Few things are as constant in this world as his love of plans," her ghost said aloud, looking directly at her as it did so. _Relax,_ is what it meant. She took the hint and walked with Cayde, finding herself relishing the friendly contact of his arm draped across her shoulders. She couldn't sense his Light, but his arm was still warm beneath his gear, and she supposed that was a good enough substitute for now.

"Gotta meet Poncho Lady first before you think your way through this mess, though."

"'Poncho Lady'?"

"I also go by Hawthorne," a voice said behind them, and they both turned to find a woman garbed in a loose… well, poncho, with an impressively long rifle strapped to her back. She extended a hand to Ikora, who took it firmly. The woman smelled of feathers and grass, and for a moment she mistook Hawthorne for one of Cayde's hunters.

"I run the Farm," she continued, gesturing to the buildings. "A paradise away from the City."

"And she has been kind enough to allow us to set up camp here," Zavala said above them, nodding his head to Hawthorne. "She has our deepest gratitude."

She shrugged. "May as well. Guardians keep winding up here looking for answers."

"You've seen other guardians?" Ikora asked, looking to the other Vanguards. "How many?"

"Less than I'd like," Zavala replied. "But more than I'd expected."

"They kinda just come and go," Cayde said. "There's a lot that still needs setting up, and they're all eager to help."

She nodded, slipping away from Cayde. "That's… that's good. We should set up a roster to catalogue those that come through. I'd like to know our numbers, even roughly."

"See! She's already got it under control. We'll be back in the City by tomorrow." Cayde dodged around Hawthorne to inspect a barn cat that had wandered past them, apparently done with their conversation.

She looked to Hawthorne. "Is there space left in the barn where I can set up?"

The woman nodded to the doors. "Make yourself cozy. Might have to knock elbows with a few people, but we should have room for one more."

Ikora nodded her thanks, then looked back to her ship. "I'll get myself settled then. Let me know if there's anything I— _we,"_ she added, looking to the other Vanguards. "Can do to help."

"You can take back the City for a start," Hawthorne said, a smile on her mouth. "Farm's not used to being this crowded, _especially_ with guardians."

* * *

One hundred and thirty-two guardians properly catalogued; a rudimentary comm network set up across the EDZ; and a map of the Red Legion's perimeters, updated as of fifty-eight minutes ago. It was a small victory, pitifully so, but it was also more information than she'd had since the City fell, and she clung to it like a life raft.

The night had overtaken the evening, and it became chilly as the moon rose overhead. She pulled her robes closer, acutely aware of how much the temperature seemed to affect her now. Ikora retreated into the barn, moving to the back where the animals were being housed. The smell of manure and rotting hay was almost pleasant in the cool night air, and it helped to center her in the immediate moment.

She moved to one of the horses that was still awake. Warmth radiated off of its body like an aura, and her hand was drawn slowly, carefully towards its soft nose. It chuffed at the contact of her cool fingers, but accepted her affection with grace, and she let herself be soothed by the sound of her fingers running over its pelt.

Ikora lost herself momentarily in the simple gaze of the creature, perhaps even feeling a spike of envy for its own simple reality, when she heard a polite cough to her right. She looked up, the spell breaking, and saw Zavala standing next to her, his armour glimmering from the patchy moonlight filtering in through the boards of the roof.

He gave her a cautious smile, and she responded in kind. She knew the reason for his expression, and too felt a loss once again at the cold distance that now separated them.

"Perhaps there is wisdom in Cayde's suggestion to keep animals in the new Tower," she said by way of greeting, looking back to the horse. "I find their presence calming."

"As do I." Zavala stepped closer to the pen but did not touch the horse, appraising the creature from an appreciative distance.

"Will there be a new Tower?" she asked, not bothering to hide the rawness in her voice. There was no one around to hear them, and speaking of it eased some the turmoil roiling in her belly.

She saw her old friend's face shift as he considered her question, too respectful to ply her with assuring platitudes—no matter how badly she wanted to hear them.

"It is my hope," he finally decided to say. "And I will die trying to fulfill it."

"Death. I haven't been afraid of that for a long time."

"Nor I. But giving into that fear concedes victory to the Cabal."

She removed her hand from the horse's snout, suddenly conscious of how angry she'd become. The horse sensed it and blew out a surprised breath of air, and she moved away to give it space.

"And yet it's all that's keeping us alive." She looked to her ghost, scratched and dented and weak. "He has cut us deep in the most violating way possible."

She saw that Zavala did not have an answer for her, only a resigned melancholy. She patted his shoulder and slipped past him. "Forgive me, Commander. I need some air."

"Of course."

She could feel his eyes on her back as she exited the barn, and knew how much her own uncertainty terrified him. They all needed to stay focused and strong for one another, but she could not stay focused and strong with so many unknowns. Zavala had been the rock of the Vanguard, always resolute and honourable, but he was not the person to speak to if she needed a reprieve from the chaos of the world. It wounded her to think she was abandoning her friend, but she could not keep exposing herself to him like that. If Zavala broke, she wouldn't have the strength to put him back together.

Ikora found the person she most needed to speak to by the campfire, seated next to Hawthorne on a well-worn log. She was eating a skewer of rabbit, and Cayde was clutching a hen to his chest as he stared at her in confusion.

"... do you mean you don't name these guys?" he asked as Ikora came within earshot. "She's such a sweet little chicken!"

"I wouldn't get too attached to that thing," Hawthorne replied. "Rabbits don't go very far in a crowd this size." She took a sizeable bit of her meal for emphasis and wiped her mouth, making appreciative slurping noises.

Cayde's expression turned to one of open horror, and the offence was so great he stood up from the log and backed away from Hawthorne. "Nuh-uh, not this one. She's mine."

"Easy to say for someone who doesn't eat."

"That's none of your business."

Ikora cleared her throat, and Cayde turned. She raised a brow, falling easily into the role he provided for most of their conversations—which was the exact thing she'd been looking for. "I suggest you do not steal anything of Hawthorne's, Cayde. We are her guests."

"Chickens are not _property,"_ he replied. "You can't steal a living thing."

"I beg to differ," Hawthorne mumbled around a mouthful of rabbit. "Keep your paws off tomorrow's dinner, robot."

"What if I played you for little Colonel here?" He cocked his hip, his cape falling away to expose the pouch Ikora knew held his beloved deck of cards.

"'Colonel'? That's a stupid name for a chicken."

"So dumb you'll let me have her?"

"Hell no." She finished off her skewer and tossed the piece of wood into the campfire. "Chicken's a valuable thing in the Wilds. And I wouldn't turn down a chance to beat your ass at a card game."

"Fine. I'll destroy you _and_ deliver justice for Colonel." He shifted the animal's weight into one arm and began to reach for his pouch, his eyes seeking Ikora's for support in his decision to gamble for the chicken's life. Whatever he saw in her expression gave him pause, and his fingers stilled on the clasp. "Ah, in a few minutes, though. Gotta do some Vanguard stuff first."

"Heaven forbid you don't do your job," Hawthorne replied, a grin splitting her face. "But if you try to run with that chicken, I'll shoot you. And I don't miss."

"Duly noted." Cayde gestured for Ikora to take the lead, and she lead them further away from the camp, outside of hearing range from any of the scouts. She could hear the soft clucks of the hen still cradled in his arms, but the chicken appeared to be genuinely pleased with its situation—or at least as far as Ikora could tell. She'd never tried to read a chicken's expression before.

When they came upon a small stream, she stopped. The trees were a good barrier from the noise of the camp, and the stream offered a soothing background. Cayde stopped beside her, looking out into the forest beyond.

"You do know Hawthorne is joking to get a rise out of you, right?"

His optics snuck a peek at her from the corner of his faceplate. "Course I do. Can't pass up an opportunity for a good card game, though. And a chance to win this little sweet girl," he added, stroking the head of the hen with a finger. It clucked at him quietly, looking to be only half awake. "You can stay with us in the City and hang out with all the other guardians, yes you can." He made a kissy noise at the chicken, who closed its weary eyes in response.

"Don't go making promises you can't keep."

He looked up from Colonel to give her an unusually sober look. "Thought I saw you having a crisis of faith a few seconds ago. Glad I didn't misread that."

"You didn't," she assured him, and pressed her fingers to her temples. "I can't seem to quiet my mind."

"Lots of unknowns and vulnerabilities. Hard not to stop thinking."

"And yet you seem to be having a wonderful time." There was no judgement in her voice, no malice, but still the words sounded harsh in the quiet of the forest.

"No one ever said you can't have fun during the dreaded end times," Cayde argued. "Besides, if I'm not having fun, who would you come to for a break?"

That gave her pause. She shouldn't be surprised at Cayde's unique ability to be highly perceptive while seeming oblivious at this point, but she was surprised at a lot of things these days.

She gave him a smile to concede his point and looked down at her fingers. "Are you—have you felt cold, ever since…?"

"Since the Light left?" he finished. "Among other things, but yeah, I have."

She rubbed her hands together. "Everything feels sharper, more jagged. As if I could slice myself open just walking through this forest."

"We're a little more human now," he said. "Well, _you_ are at least. I'm just a boring old robot."

"A boring robot giving counsel to a cold, frazzled human," she mused. "Sounds like the beginning of an old myth."

He shifted Colonel back into one arm again and offered his hand to her. She looked at him, measuring his calm expression, and then took it. He still felt warm despite his earlier sentiments, and she gripped his gloved hand hard. He squeezed back, his thumb running over her skin.

"We'll be okay," he said, voice subdued. She looked into the eyes of her friend, and found herself believing him absolutely. "We didn't come this far to die broken like this now."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Cayde looked back toward the camp, his face gleaming a bright turquoise. It was a flash of light that seemed to wake her up and pull herself together, and his next words solidified her newfound resolve.

"We should go talk to Zavala about those Legion bases. We have some planning to do, and I thought I heard him receive an update a few minutes ago."

"No card games?"

He shrugged. "I think I can let Hawthorne stew on her inevitable defeat a while longer."

"Your restraint will be a lengthy footnote in this chapter of the City's tale."

"Not much point to all this if I don't become a part of history." He let go of her hand and began walking back to the barn, and she followed him with a new spring in her step.

"Then let's go make some."

* * *

 **AN:** Bungo for the love of go give us something more substantial for our lovely boy Cayde. Almost all of his grimoire is either horrifically tragic or badass and you need to hurry up and put that into the main game.

Otherwise 10/10 game - go play it if you haven't already!


End file.
